


paleblood

by dakhtar



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Angst, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou suffers, Canon-Typical Violence, Coma, Comatose Bakugou Katsuki, Gen, Guilt, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Quirkless Bakugou Katsuki, guilty kirishima, kirishima suffers, the dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 04:58:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dakhtar/pseuds/dakhtar
Summary: Bakugou Katsuki gets taken by the villains. Bakugou Katsuki(Bakugou Katsuki)gets rescued(wakes up)in a coma(in a dream).





	1. crackle

**Author's Note:**

> i said i'd do a bloodborne/bnha thing. _i said i would._ *adds fic to the list of ridiculous crossovers she's done*
> 
> super short introductory chapter, more to come.

“Sensei,” the hand freak villain said, voice echoing in the dark room they’d thrown him in. “We got him. We got the angry one.”

Bakugou snarled at the descriptor, snarled at the villains surrounding him, at the thought that they could dare think that they _had_ him. He snarled again when they ignored him, all of their focus on the newcomer that bled out of the shadows, on the newcomer in a dark, tailored suit with his face hidden by some metal contraption.

“You’ve done well, Tomura…” the newcomer boomed, voice low and dark, forcing chills down Bakugou's spine. That metal mask turned to him, gliding towards him with a snake like grace that tasted like slime in Bakugou's throat, and gently ran a hand down his face.

Bakugou snarled, his voice choked by the muffler they’d put on him like some rowdy dog. Snapped his head back as far as he could with the chains that held him still.

And in return, the hand snapped down to around his neck.

Bakugou went still.

“Bakugou _shounen_ ,” _young Bakugou_ , said the imposing mastermind, squeezing ever so slightly, mocking a different voice, a kinder voice, who’d called him the exact same thing. “Explosion quirk. Yes...” he sighed rapturously.  “You’ve truly done well, Tomura.”

And the hand squeezed.

Bakugou snar--

#

\---led awake.

And promptly crashed to the ground.

Struggling, Bakugou pushed himself up gasping, throat tight, struggling to draw in breath, the phantom squeeze of a hand on his throat kicking up all his reflexes. But it was just that – phantom – and he found himself swallowing air with no problem, coughing when it went down the wrong pipe, doing it again like an idiot until his lungs finally kicked into action.

The world around him, when he finally blinked back into awareness, still panting, was dark. There was no atmospheric light like in the bar, there was no stench of rancid alcohol Bakugou wanted nothing to do with, no leering eyes and patronising pieces of shit staring him down while he remained chained up like some crazed beast.

Nothing. No one. He wasn’t chained up anymore – he moved his hands just to prove it, just now realising he could actually _move_ – the muzzle they’d shut him up with wasn’t on his face anymore. Thank fuck for that, Bakugou grumbled to himself as he massaged his sore jaw, that shit hurt like a bitch.

But beyond that, he realised quickly, there was literally _nothing_. The room he was in – for it _was_ a room, a broken down, debilitated, dark and dreary room – was absent of any life, dust coating every surface he could see. He used something – a countertop? – to pull himself up to his feet, snatching his hand back when he realised it was more of a surgical table than a countertop. It was stained with blood, _old_ blood, the kind that looked like rust than actual blood. And it was right next to where he’d been when he’d fallen.

Meaning he’d been on it. On the operating table.

_What the fuck?_

What the hell had that villain bastard done to him, Balugou fumed. He’d been in a bar just now, surrounded by dumb fucks who thought attacking UA was the greatest idea to do not just once, but _twice_ , and now he was here?  What kind of fucked up quirk did that no-face piece of shit even have?

Whatever, the blond grimaced, turning away from the dirty operating table, from the iv drip stand he’d just noticed, empty of any fluid, refusing to look at his own arms for any puncture wounds. He was free. No chains and no muzzles. Bakugou didn’t care if this was some trick, if they were baiting him out just to try and catch him again. He’d fucking show them. They were going to regret taking off the fucking chains.

He raised his arm, fingers alighting with his familiar crackles—

Wait.

Bakugou looked down at his hands. Bent his fingers just so, expecting the warm bursts of tiny explosions—

 _Wait_.

What the fuck? He tried again, both hands up now, right to his face, twitching them like he’d done since he was _goddamn four_ and—

— _Nothing._

What the _fuck_?

He couldn’t use his quirk? He couldn’t use his quirk! He tried again, feeling the sweat trickle down his temple, feeling the rapid thump _thump_ of his heart, the pulse hammering away in his throat as his infamous crackles fucking failed to _show up_. His hands weren’t wet, they weren’t dry, they weren’t- so _why_?

What the _fuck_ did that bastard villain _do to him_?

He heard it then- the growl- quiet and low and not immediately in the room with him. It came from the next room over, past the large double doors he could barely make out, and something about it ran shivers up his spine.

He had no quirk. He had no idea where he was, how he’d gotten here. This was bullshit. _Everything_ since- _god_ \- since that fucking slime monster had just been _bullsh_ -

-he _snarled_ , sick and tired of it all, clenching his fists and ignoring the sharp pains of his nails biting into his skin.

He wasn’t going to figure anything out just standing here like a little bitch – that much, he knew. But whatever was past that door wasn’t normal. _Nothing_ was normal. Nothing had _been_ normal since he’d gotten into UA and fucking _Deku_ had too. But Bakugou Katsuki was no quitter. And whatever the hell that masked bad-touch piece of shit thought he’d get out of this twisted game? Bakugou was going to prove him wrong.

He took a weak step forward, suddenly realising his knees were barely keeping his weight up. Took another one, far steadier this time, far more solid. And then slowly made his way to the door.


	2. a moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fog in the distance, fog up close.
> 
> _plip, plop. splish, splash._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is pure self indulgence. ps: bakugou would absolutely be able to recognise different fashion styles thanks to his parents being in the fashion industry. this is officially my headcanon.

The smell hit him first, smacking him right in the face as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He saw it second – the dark, hulking mass that growled, ever so softly, the figure beneath it, limbs grotesquely bent in every angle, skin flayed and still bleeding.

He swallowed thickly, forcing down the vomit that tried to escape him, covered his nose with a hand as he gagged quietly at the image in front of him. The tiny buzzing of flies reached his ears, the tiny little insects coming into view around the wolf and corpse, buzzing away happily at the stench of death.

Bakugou felt sick. He felt useless; hands curling in on themselves, skin hot and sweaty, naked without the heat of his quirk. How the hell was he supposed to deal with that? _What,_ exactly, was he supposed to _do_ with _that_? Why- why had he woken up in the room behind him, why hadn’t that- that _thing_ \- tried to eat him while he’d been-

-he swallowed thickly, forcefully stopping that train of thought. There was nothing for it, he could keep fretting about like fucking Deku caught in a situation or fucking _deal_ with it. There was a door behind the hulking beast (a wolf, a distant part of his brain supplied, a _werewolf_ ), and a quick look back showed no other door, no other alternative.

If he wanted to go _anywhere_ , he had to get past the wolf and to the door.

Great. Fucking _great_.

Bakugou exhaled through his nose, jaw clenched.

He’d never fought someone with a beast-quirk, never fought anyone who favoured a more hands on approach- or, well, more _claws on_ approach. Kirishima was the closest he could think of, but Kirishima was all brawn, all defence and offense, his hardening quirk making him a powerhouse. He wasn’t… _this_.

And Bakugou didn’t have his fucking _quirk_.

No. _No._ He could do this. The beast hadn’t noticed him yet, too busy with it’s food to notice Bakugou stumbling his way in. So what if he didn’t have his quirk? Bakugou had always known there’d be situations where he’d be rendered quirkless, had had his knowledge confirmed when Aizawa had used his quirk on them that first day. He knew – _knew_ – how to fight without the explosive force of his hands, knew how to bend and dodge and hit.

And, most importantly, he knew how to _win_.

He just had to get past the wolf, out through the door and wherever the hell it would need. He looked back at the room he’d come from, confirming what he’d suspected. No doors back there, nowhere to leave from. He had to go forward.

Inching his way in slowly, Bakugou circled around the wolf, taking it in from all sides. It was a grotesque thing, elongated like it’s limbs had been pulled and stretched by a torture device or two, fur black and stringy, shiny and wet with something Bakugou could easily guess to be blood. He couldn’t quite make out what the thing beneath it was beside it being a person, couldn’t tell if it was a woman or a man, young or old, but he realised he didn’t really need to know, did he? Whatever that person had been, they weren’t no more. They were dead.

The wolf went still. Raised its massive head. Sniffed.

Bakugou would be dead too if he didn’t make a plan, quick.

Quickly, he noticed the operating tables strung all around, the drip stands and chairs littered across the room. The whole place looked abandoned, but in mostly good shape – dark and dreary, but high quality, books lining in-built shelves and chandeliers swinging above.

That gave him an idea – the chandeliers, that is. Bakugou loved giving people the impression that he was all brawns and no brains, loved to have them think he was nothing but a tank, a vanguard that could only attack but not dodge. That he had no manoeuvrability and could only make things go _boom_.

It made it that much more delicious when he slid right behind them and blew them skyhigh.

The werewolf would be quick, he figured – long limbs and slim build, those claws would have ridiculous range, too long for Bakugou to be able to comfortable block. He could roll through them if he had a weapon, get deep within it’s defences and impale it on something, but- no, if he got too close the _thing_ would just bite a chunk out of him.

So he needed to keep his distance.

Still sniffing, the werewolf shook its head from side to side, huffing an irritated noise, and slowly stood onto its four limbs.

Quietly, carefully, Bakugou climbed up onto a surgical table.

The thing’s claws clinked against the floor, like the delicate china his mother kept around for the fancy guests.

Quietly, equally carefully, Bakugou wrapped a hand around an IV-less drip.

The thing’s teeth glinted in what little light was in the room, though Bakugou couldn’t tell where said light was coming from. They looked too big for it’s mouth, too sharp, too bloody. Saliva drooled from the corners, stretching obscenely before disconnecting to land on the already stained floor.

Quietly, oh so carefully, Bakugou calculated the necessary trajectory, and inched forward-

_clatter-_

Shit! He’d accidentally shoed a scalpel! The beast’s massive head whipped in his direction, a thunderous growl puffing the air as it-

Hoooolyyy _shit-_

-as it _launched right at him_.

Suddenly unsteady, Bakugou tripped backwards across the metal table, shoes skidding across it’s sleek surface. He swung the drip stand right at the creature, hitting it broadside across it’s massive jaw, steadying himself when it snarled back a step.

His other arm rose, fingers bending, instinctively gearing to throw a blast while the opening was there, but nothing came, _nothing came_ , _why-_

Pain _exploded_ across his midsection, his entire left side _screaming_ in pain. Bakugou rolled off the table, ducking behind it as the beast swung another set of deadly claws at him, breaking the _metal table_ into nothing but debris. Shit, all of his planning was going to shit, but- _there_ \- another table, a bit further away than what he needed, but if he just took a running _leap_ -

The chandelier, steady within his grasp, swinging just like he knew it would, and-

He screamed, adrenaline disappearing the pain, adrenaline disappearing everything but the creature, everything but his _target_ -

_slop._

The _thing_ went still.

Gasping, Bakugou reared his arm bag, reared the iv drip stand in his grasp back, and drove it through the thing once more. The horrible _squealch_ of it echoed in the back of his mind, but he had no time to consider it, no time to think of anything _but_ making sure the thing was dead, wasn’t getting back up again.

After a moment of silence from the thing, Bakugou took two pointed steps back, keeping it in his sight just in case. Something bumped against the back of his knees, a chair- thank _fuck_ \- he collapsed onto it, struggling to draw in breath, suddenly remembering the _fire_ dancing across his left stomach.

A glance down and-

 _Shit_.

That was bad.

His entire left side was drenched in blood, making his pants – the same pants he’d been wearing at the summer camp – stick to his skin. His shirt was in tatters, and-

Bakugou swallowed thickly, nausea threatening to make him hurl at the _ribbons_ his flesh had been reduced too.

 _Fuck_.

His left arm rose haltingly to touch it, fingers twitching uselessly before falling, the entire limb hanging like a lead weight at his side. His hearing went numb – there’d been nothing to hear anyway, besides the creature’s noises – but now the silence felt more like tinnitus, ringing in his ears. The room-

- _swayed_. His blood was dripping down his side, falling to the floor, _plip, plop, plip, plop_ -

-he    f e l t…

#

A moon.

A building, high up on a hill.

Gravestones upon graves.

Fog, in the distance.

Fog, up close.

Bakugou-

He-

A? Doll?

On a little uprise, on a little enclave, next to a fountain and a little pathway. A fancy doll. Lolita? Bustle gown, Victorian, early 20th century. Shawl. Jointed fingers. Ceramic? Porcelain?

Something on her lap. A-

Fog, in the distance.

Fog, up close.

A _slug_. Huge, black and slimy. Multiple… _feelers_. Disgusting.

Bakugou ( _Bakugou?_ )-

He-

A moon.

Gravestones upon gravestones.

He blinked.

Walked up the path, cutting through the fog. The door was open, and inside- a library? An office? A workshop? No, just silence.

Silence.

An empty wheelchair next to a table, the whine of unoiled wheels sounding everytime a non-existent breeze unsettled it. A- a _weapon_ -

(something ignited in him, a spark, a-)

-he picked it up. Deadly curve, slightly battered, but feasible.

( _Bakugou-shounen_ -)

Books everywhere. No title on the spines. He opened one up. Another. A third. No words. No _meaning._

He closed them shut.

Outside, again. A. A-

 _Gun_?

Long and slim, intricate and overcomplicated. Finely sketched designs across the barrel.

Outside, again. A. A-

A moon.

Fog, in the distance-

- _the doll, eyes wide and unseeing. glassy-_

-Fog, up close.

A moon.

Gravestones upon gravestones.

One of them- one of them-

( _a shudder ran through him, a hand wrapped around his throat, he snarle-)_

glowing, ever so slightly.

 _yharnam_ , it said, in fancy cursive, large and bold against the headstone.

It glowed. Ever so slightly.

Bakugou, he-

A moon.

His fingers rose, slim and pale, pockmarked and scarred-

A moon.

Touched the headstone.

A _moon-_

#

Kirishima Eijirou woke up.

**Author's Note:**

> for the low, low price of $5.99, you - yes, you! - can join me at my [tumblr](https://a-dakhtar.tumblr.com/)! join now, while the offer's still fresh! offer is subject to terms and conditions dictated by the tony stark defence squad and are liable to change via the coran coran the gorgeous man act of 2016.


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